I just, connect with it so much. I go through day after day of this weary, dreadful existance and bleed for people, but they never see me or the suffering I’m in. If only they didn’t make me love them, then it wouldn’t be so bad. Then I could just hate them like I hate myself.

Also whats better then killing yourself is to steal all your parents booze, drink it and then hide under your bed. Then you will be in a slightly better place, and not give a damn about what others think.

The best way to finally get your overbearing parents to understand your deep, unending personal pain is to bleed all over their belongings, then take some sleeping pills and make sure you pbum out where they find you. Don’t take too many, because if you’re dead then your pain dies with you, and then they’ll never really understand.